Happy Sunday, all! I had a wonderful, literary weekend, celebrating with Bill Olsen, New Issues Poetry & Prose, and fellow writer friends. Here are a few poems I loved from my weekend; enjoy!… Read More An Inspiring Day in Kalamazoo: Poems
A POEM ABOUT BLUEGILLS There are poems about bluegills. There are poems about trout. The bluegill doesn’t give a shit. It’ll eat a bare hook but would rather not hear about your childhood. The bluegill’s thick headed. It hunkers down in the weeds, thinking. The trout’s like a young girl in a wedding… Read More Poem of the Day: David Dodd Lee
I AM MAD AND THIS IS HOW I DANCE I wheel my bed into the yard, stand it upright, braced on all sides by ropes. I am too small to house skies, bat-winged angels drunk on tar, dogs scraping their tongues against pavement. My veins finger through cement until they find grass, Irish… Read More Poem of the Day: John Rybicki
AFTER READING RUMI I say my prayers upside down, the wind blowing me like a clothespinned robe, my little bat hands curled together. I look for God in a school of fish. I look for God in Mammoth Cave. I look for God in an air balloon. If Jesus’ hot coal head is… Read More Poem of the Day: Julie Moulds
CROCUS I wanted to stay in the earth: There, I needed no skin—the dark body was all around me. I had no tongue. Above me, sleep, a heaven of snow. Years, years. Then the split, the blue heart lifted almost out—who was coming to save me? How would I know myself, outside self…… Read More Poem of the Day: Beckian Fritz Goldberg
IT BLOWS YOU HOLLOW It takes your bones to bed, tongues out the marrow. Says it will meet you halfway, a hotel deep in Oklahoma where you’ll get adjoining rooms and have a couple of nervous breakdowns. It’s a no-show, waylaid. It orders the venison sausage, the lamb, the infant in puff pastry,… Read More Poem of the Day: Diane Seuss
Like hail from a blind sky, the body falls. He drinks wine from broken shot glasses and wears a goatee. This is his appearance to some. For others, he continues on his way in bare feet and white robes. In either world, he takes his time. Whether or not his words contain the rush… Read More Jericho Brown: A Poem
Typically when I read a poetry collection that is more surreal in nature, I eventually reach some level of disappointment, simply for the reason that the collection lacks a form of balance between the concrete and the surreal. In Marni Ludwig’s collection, Pinwheel, however, I never reached this level of disappointment. Though the collection… Read More Horses, Etc.: The Kinesthetic Nature of Marni Ludwig’s Pinwheel
AFTER THE GIRL After the girl with the handful of mice and a tiny silver guillotine leaves, we lie down in the dark. You tell me last night you dreamed you wore a beard. The night before you drowned but did not sleep. On the screen behind us citizens of a great island… Read More Reading Marni Ludwig
